Body of Evidence
by anotherredhead
Summary: A mysterious crime could have serious consequences for a young saloon girl named Kitty Russell, and the town marshal sets out to uncover the truth.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** Standard disclaimers apply. I own none of these characters except the ones I made up. This story takes place in the first couple of seasons, and some liberties may have been taken with details from the series for the sake of drama. I apologize in advance for putting a Star Trek reference in a Gunsmoke story.

Body of Evidence

Chapter 1

**8am**

The morning sun cast a bright beam of light over her bed, and Kitty Russell slowly began to massage her throbbing temples. Struggling to come out of a deep slumber, it suddenly occurred to her that she didn't even remember going to bed last night. Why not? She groggily searched her memory for clues to the source of her growing headache.

Friday nights were always busy at The Long Branch Saloon, but last night had been particularly so. The Texas cattle drive was in town, bringing with it over a dozen weary cowboys itching to cash their paychecks and celebrate the end of a long journey. A couple of customers had bought her drinks, but certainly not more than she could handle. Kitty always made sure of that. So why did she feel so hung over?

She reached out with her left hand until she found the corner of the spare pillow, expecting to easily pull it over her eyes to hide the offending light. But it didn't budge as she gave it first a soft tug, then a hard jerk. She opened her eyes and let out a short, shrill scream as the unexpected visitor next to her came into focus. He was lying on his stomach facing away from her, the covers pulled up almost up to his neck. Surprisingly, the sound of her scream did not awaken him.

Kitty had not brought anyone up to her room last night, she was almost sure of it. She quickly sat up, her heart pounding in her chest, and heard a familiar rustling sound at the movement. She looked down and discovered that she was still wearing the dress she had worn to work last night.

_Think, Kitty._ Late in the evening, she had been having a drink with a friendly but uninteresting man. They were squeezed into a full table, chatting about something forgettable, when…what? Everything after that was a blank.

Kitty leaned over the still form in her bed, just far enough so that she could see his face. He looked vaguely familiar, but it wasn't the same man. She bit her lip and lightly poked him on the shoulder. She may not know how he had gotten there, but she knew he needed to leave.

The bed shook slightly but the man remained motionless. Even through the sheet and bedspread, Kitty knew something didn't feel right. Her eyes narrowed as a horrible possibility occurred to her. She brought a shaking hand up to the covers and pulled them down below the shoulder she had just poked. It was bare, and something about it looked very unnatural. A light touch of the stiff, cold flesh confirmed her fear—this man was dead.

Her pulse raced as she scanned the room. His clothing lay in a pile on the floor—all of it. _This cannot be happening._

Kitty leapt out of bed, the thought of spending one more second next to a corpse almost unbearable. She hurried out the door and descended the steps of The Long Branch, unconcerned about her crumpled appearance and having no doubt where she was headed. She broke out into a run as she hit Front Street, oblivious to the handful of shopkeepers watching in amusement. She didn't stop until she reached the office of the U.S. Marshal.

Matt Dillon was casually sitting on the edge of his desk, drinking his first cup of coffee to start the work day. His assistant, Chester, was pouring himself a cup from the same freshly brewed pot when the lovely redhead burst through the door.

"Kitty, what's wrong?" Matt asked, quickly standing up as he saw the look of distress on her face.

"Oh Matt," she sobbed, running into his arms. It was an unfamiliar place, inside those arms, but one she had dreamed about since their very first encounter. At this moment, under these circumstances, there was nowhere she felt safer.

The tall lawman rubbed her back as she clung to him, savoring the closeness. No was more surprised than Matt Dillon that the saloon girl from New Orleans had become such an important part of his life. He was certain that he had never met a more beautiful woman, yet the pleasure of looking at her every day had turned out to be secondary to the benefit of knowing her. In Kitty Russell he had found a true friend and trusted confidante, neither of which had ever come easily to him. He wasn't sure when or how it had happened, but somewhere in those sparkling blue eyes and that infectious smile, he had let his guard down and lost his inhibitions. She made him laugh, and she made him think. In every way imaginable, his life had been better since she had come into it. If only he had the freedom to tell her so.

Matt gently pulled away, not at all eager to end their embrace but sensing the urgency of the situation. "Kitty, what is it?" he pressed, keeping a firm, protective hold on her.

Kitty glanced over at Chester, a dear man who she desperately wished was anywhere else right now. Matt caught her cue and asked his assistant to check the telegraph office for a wire he was not expecting. It would hopefully keep him busy long enough for them to have a private conversation.

Chester hobbled out the door, and Kitty suddenly found herself unable to spill the story she had come to tell him. As the words formed in her head, they sounded grotesque and unseemly. Matt Dillon undoubtedly knew how she supported herself, but it had been an unspoken truth. Had their social interactions not often taken place inside the saloon where she was dressed to entertain, her occupation might seem a mystery. She provided him with valuable information on the comings and goings in this raucous cow town, but Kitty rarely mentioned her own job duties and Matt Dillon was too much of a gentleman to ask. Somehow he seemed to genuinely respect her, and as ridiculous as she knew it sounded, Kitty felt she had a reputation to protect when she was with him. Now she had no choice but to tell him something ugly.

She swallowed hard and forced out the offending words. "I woke up this morning, and a man was in my bed. He's dead, Matt. I don't know him, and I don't know how he got there. I swear it."

Matt frowned as her story sank in. Did she really just say that a man had died in her bed? What was he supposed to do with that? He had a million questions, almost none of them having to do with fact that he had a dead body to investigate. But as much as ached to know the answers, he had no right to ask those kinds of questions. He had decided how his life had to be, and as hard and lonely as that decision often seemed, he knew it was for the best.

Matt thought carefully before he spoke, as was his nature. He had to treat this professionally, and no other way. "Kitty, I want you to tell me everything you remember from last night."

Kitty closed her eyes and inhaled slowly, trying her best to ignore the pain in her head and recreate the events leading up to this nightmare.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Body of Evidence

Chapter 2 

**The Previous Evening**

Kitty sat at her dressing table and ran a brush through her long, red tresses. It was almost time for work, and she was preparing for an exhausting night. She finished brushing and stood up, adjusting the straps on her new dress and turning around in front of the mirror to see how she looked in it. Yes, she would definitely wear her hair down this evening.

It was a special occasion, though she was the only one who knew it. On this day one year ago, Kitty had stepped off a dusty stage with the clothes on her back and a few dollars in her purse and decided to take a chance on Dodge City, Kansas. A year didn't sound like very long, but it was as close to laying down roots as she had ever come. She wasn't "the new girl" at The Long Branch anymore, and that was a good feeling. There was a certain security that came with having the same job for a whole year, and as jobs went this wasn't a bad one. The saloon could be rough at times, but compared to her last place it was a regular Sunday School. All things considered, she was doing okay—better than okay, actually. She had managed her money well and figured she had more in the bank right now than she had even made over the past couple of years. She was toying with the idea of buying her own business, though she hadn't told anyone. The word business_woman_ sounded ridiculous to most people. Still, Kitty couldn't help but dream of the day when she could stop catering to the whims of strangers and start answering to no one but herself.

The high turnover in her profession had made it difficult to get very close to anyone at work. Kitty hadn't made up her mind yet about the latest new girl, who had started last month. The petite, ashen haired Shauna Mathis was not very talkative, and Kitty wasn't sure if she was shy or snobby. She expected it was the former, as Shauna was very young and this appeared to be her first job. She hoped so anyway—Kitty had a way of getting people to open up to her, but there was no cure for snobby. She knew that from experience.

If Shauna had a polar opposite in personality, it would be the third girl currently employed at The Long Branch. A tall platinum blonde with hazel eyes, Leslie Wyatt had a bold manner and assertive attitude that either drove men completely wild or turned them off altogether. She had learned her craft in the bawdy dance halls of St. Louis, and much of small town Dodge City wasn't quite sure what to make of her. She wore too much makeup and had a hardness about her that attracted a certain clientele, who made sure she remained employed. Kitty knew she'd had a troubled childhood and fled an alcoholic father at a young age, but Leslie had shared few personal details beyond that in the four months she had been there. She was a complete contrast to Kitty's warm, natural style, but despite their differences they got along well.

Kitty opened her jewelry box and tried to decide which necklace to wear on her private special anniversary. She heard the door open and looked up to see Leslie poking her head into the room, her Friday night outfit complete except for something she hoped to borrow. "Hey, can I wear your jade earrings tonight?" she asked. "They would go perfectly with this dress."

Kitty fished out two green stones and dropped them into Leslie's outreached hand. "Here you go," she said cheerfully. "I'm almost ready. See you all downstairs in a few minutes."

"You're a doll," Leslie gushed, giving her a quick air kiss. Kitty chuckled to herself, thinking that no one but Leslie could do that without looking totally ridiculous. Somehow it suited her.

"Hey, how's your foot?" Kitty called out as Leslie closed the door. Leslie had been dealing with a painful case of gout in her big toe, and the fashionable shoes she wore with her work dresses certainly hadn't help the cause. Kitty had convinced her that the cranky doctor who frequented The Long Branch was a marshmallow on the inside, not to mention a damn fine physician. Leslie had taken her advice and paid him a visit the previous week.

"It's much better, thanks!" Leslie yelled back through the closed door. Kitty smiled, happy that she was able to help and grateful for the friendship of that cranky doctor.

Galen Adams was as fine a person as Kitty had ever known. Beneath his gruff exterior was the heart of a healer, a man who dedicated his life to making others' better. He was roughly the same age as her father, but thankfully that was where any resemblance ended. Doc Adams actually treated her like a daughter, and he asked for nothing in return. He was one of several people who made her feel like Dodge City just may be home.

Chester Goode was the aptly named assistant of the town marshal, and a real gentleman. He took his hat off whenever he saw her, pulled out her chair, and never failed to call her "Miss Kitty." A girl in her line of work didn't always get that kind of respect, and she appreciated it. She sensed early on that Chester had a crush on her, and as flattering as that was, he just wasn't her type. She had managed to gently get that point across while keeping both Chester's pride and their easy friendship intact. Kitty had always had a way of making people feel good about themselves.

But against all odds, her best friend was that town marshal, a man so much her type that her decision to give Dodge a try was based almost entirely upon her first glimpse of him. She doubted he had noticed her that day, but Matt Dillon was quite possibly the most attractive man she had ever laid eyes on. He was certainly the tallest, standing just over six and a half feet. He had a head full of dark, wavy hair and strong, masculine features, with eyes so blue it was like looking in a mirror.

After getting to know him, Kitty was delighted to learn that he was just as attractive on the inside. Despite his considerable size and authority, he was mild mannered and unpretentious, treating everyone equally whether it was the wealthy businessman, the poorest of farmers—or a saloon girl. He was quiet and pensive yet quick witted, and their personalities meshed like two puzzle pieces that were shaped very differently but fit together perfectly.

Matt had become somewhat of a fixture at The Long Branch, and she liked to think she was at least partly responsible for that. Their conversations were at times fun and flirtatious, at other times serious and meaningful, and they had begun seeing each other outside of the confines of her work place. They dined out regularly, enjoyed fishing or a picnic when time permitted, and had even attended a barn dance together. In other words, they were a couple in every way except the way one usually defines a couple.

This was uncharted territory for Kitty Russell. She knew chemistry, and she and Matt Dillon had chemistry. She also knew men, and most of them couldn't keep their hands off of her. But not him. He had barely touched her at all, and chances were he never would. They were from different worlds, Dodge City's most upstanding citizen and one of its many working girls. Matt Dillon may enjoy her company, he may confide in her, but he couldn't possibly want her the way she wanted him. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but a year had gone by and she was getting used to the taste.

Kitty stood up and looked at herself one last time before heading downstairs to greet a town full of visiting Texas cowboys. Leslie and Shauna had begun entertaining, but every male head in the saloon turned toward the staircase as the stunning redhead made her entrance. Her hair was pulled over to one side, cascading over her right shoulder and hanging down almost to her waist.

Paul Fuller's brown eyes almost popped out of his head when he saw her. The seventeen-year-old had lied about his age to get a job as the horse wrangler for this cattle drive, and it was his first time in a saloon. He wondered if there was something different about the Kansas air because he was certain there wasn't a girl that pretty in all of Texas.

Kitty noticed the baby faced blonde staring at her from the corner. He quickly turned away when she made eye contact, as though he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. She decided to introduce herself to the young man who looked so uncomfortably out of place and see if he wanted some company.

Two hours later, she was still keeping him company. He nursed a couple of beers while they talked about everything from their childhoods and losing parents at a young age to life in a western cow town. Kitty usually didn't divulge that much personal information but Paul Fuller seemed safe, like a little brother she felt obliged to protect. He was away from home for the first time and needed a friend.

Paul's companions from the cattle drive had outpaced him in the drinking department, to say the least. A few of them decided that two beers in two hours made for a pathetic first trip to a saloon, and it was time to make a man out of him. He found himself quickly surrounded and then whisked away to the bar for shots by the mostly well-intentioned gang. He would rather have stayed and talked to Kitty, but he wasn't about to wimp out and embarrass himself.

Kitty scanned the room, which was now filled with a sea of both familiar and unfamiliar faces. Shauna was dancing with one of the Friday night regulars as the new piano player entertained the crowd. Seeing that Kitty was finally free of her young Klingon, several men clamored for her attention. Her dance card was full for quite a while, until a handsome man offered to buy her a beer.

He told her his name, which she quickly forgot. She could tell almost immediately that he was full of himself, spinning heroic tales about the cattle drive that sounded like something out of a fantasy novel. She knew the type well and had learned to figuratively roll her eyes and hold her tongue. It was her job.

She was almost grateful when Leslie squeezed into her table with another man she didn't recognize, probably one of the other Texans. At least she wouldn't be stuck talking to this insufferable cowboy alone. A frosty beer appeared in front of her and Kitty tried to make small talk with her friend—anything to change the subject from this ridiculous story she was hearing from whatshisname. But it seemed that Leslie was much more interested in her companion than she was in Kitty, so the diversion was brief. As they worked on their drinks, Kitty subtly tried to find Paul to make sure he was okay. What she wouldn't give to be listening to his kind and interesting words at this moment. She spotted him at the end of the bar with a shot glass, trying to keep up with his older counterparts and by all appearances, failing miserably. She felt sorry for him—in a few hours, she suspected, he would be experiencing his very first I-wish-I-was-dead hangover.

Kitty turned her fleeting attention back to the man next to her, realizing she hadn't heard a word he had said in at least a couple minutes. She tried to remember what boring story he had been telling when she tuned him out, but she found herself unable to think. She was suddenly overcome with drowsiness, and her head was swimming. This was only her second beer all evening, and no amount of beer had ever made her feel quite like this. She stood up the best she could and told her companion she needed to leave. Thus ended her memory of Friday night at The Long Branch Saloon.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

Body of Evidence

Chapter 3

Matt grabbed his hat and started toward the door. "Come on, we have to get Doc," he urged.

"No!" Kitty cried instinctively. It was bad enough that she had to get Matt involved in this. But Doc was like a father to her, and this was not the type of situation with which a girl wanted a father's help.

"I'm sorry Kitty, but we have to tell Doc," he said gently, understanding her trepidation. "A man is dead and we need to know why. It's his job."

As much as she didn't like it, Kitty knew he was right. She slowly nodded and followed him out the door.

Doc Adams was halfway down the wooden steps in search of a breakfast companion when he saw his favorite non-couple rushing toward him. He knew immediately that he wasn't going to make it to Delmonico's.

"What's the matter?" he asked, concerned.

Matt gave Kitty an apologetic look before he began. "Well, it seems a man died last night, and I need you to check it out."

"Okay," Doc responded, swiping at his moustache and getting the impression that there was much more to this story. "Do you know who he is?" Kitty shook her head, and Doc realized that she must have been the one to report the death.

"Alright," he said softly, unsure of the circumstances and feeling the need to tread lightly. "Where is he?"

Kitty looked away. She didn't want to say it, and she didn't want Matt to say it either. But as the awkward silence hung in the air, she knew there was no escape. Someone had to say it, and it might as well be her.

"He's in my bed," she said stoically, almost defiantly. She knew how it sounded, and she had no control over what people thought. But she had done nothing wrong in this instance, nothing at all, and she wasn't about to act like she had.

Doc and Matt exchanged a brief glance. Doc simply nodded and headed back up the steps to get his bag. "I'll meet you over there."

GSGSGSGSGSGSGSGS

Kitty stopped just outside her bedroom door and squeezed Matt's arm. "I can't go in there," she whispered, praying that it was still too early for the other girls to be up. "Not while he's still..."

"I understand," Matt whispered back to her, with little emotion. "I'll go in. You wait here for Doc."

Less than a minute later, the physician hurried into the saloon with his medical bag. He bounded up the steps and saw Kitty alone in the hallway. The pained expression on her face told him not to ask any questions, not just yet. He rubbed her arm gave her a comforting smile. "Why don't you go downstairs and sit down, rest for a while. I won't be long." Kitty nodded gratefully and followed his advice.

Matt had pulled the covers all the way back, revealing the naked, lifeless body. He turned the man over and saw a small hole in his chest, streaks of caked blood dried around it.

He had seen no shortage of dead bodies in his career, too many with bullets in them. He had certainly seen more gruesome deaths, but this one affected him in a way he had never experienced. A knot formed in the pit of his stomach as he looked at the familiar bed with the unfamiliar occupant. He quickly pulled the covers back up to just below the wound as the door opened.

The two men said nothing as they made eye contact. Doc hesitantly turned his attention to the bed, knowing what to expect yet not fully prepared for it.

Matt cleared his throat nervously. "I suppose we know the cause of death," he remarked in the most businesslike voice he could muster, avoiding any comment on the man's location or the fact that his clothes were in a pile on the floor.

Doc stared at the obvious bullet hole. "Is this how you found him?"

"He was on his stomach," Matt answered. "I turned him over."

"Did Kitty tell you what happened?"

"She says she doesn't know, Doc," he replied in a manner that didn't give away his assessment of that statement. "She said she was having a drink with a customer last night, and that's the last thing she remembers. When she woke up this morning she found this strange man in her bed, in this condition."

Blackouts were not uncommon with heavy drinkers, but Kitty was not a heavy drinker and she wasn't a lightweight either. Matt knew that as well as he did. It simply didn't make any sense.

Doc chewed on the information for a few seconds. No one could convince him that Kitty would ever kill anyone except in self-defense, and that was the explanation he had expected to hear. This had totally caught him off guard, and it pained him to think what may lie ahead for her—and for Matt.

Doc had watched with delight over the months as the spark had grown between his old friend and his lovely new one. He had chuckled to himself that a blind man couldn't miss it, yet he knew better than to meddle. He had tried to counsel Matt Dillon through a couple of ill-fated romances in the past, and the young man seemed hopeless. The lesson he had taken from the last failure was that being a lawman precluded permanent relationships, and his stubborn nature wouldn't allow him to be convinced otherwise.

Doc felt he just hadn't met the right woman, and after Kitty came into the picture he was sure of it. Never had he seen the reserved, introspective marshal share such an effortless rapport with a woman, or anyone else for that matter. The Long Branch had gone from one of his many stops during rounds to the center of a world he had never before enjoyed. He came by more than once a day if duties allowed and had even begun accompanying her to dinner and socials. He was less burdened, more relaxed, and generally happier than Doc had ever seen him. In short, meeting Kitty Russell had been a game changer, and Doc was patiently waiting for him to re-examine his moratorium on permanent relationships. Nothing had happened yet, but it would—he had been certain of it.

Of course there was a glaring hitch in his perfect scenario—Kitty was a saloon girl, with all the baggage that entailed, and not discussing the subject didn't change that fact. Doc was a firm believer in an Indian proverb—never criticize a man until you have walked a mile in his moccasins. He had become a doctor to help people, and that seemed a far better use of his time than judging how others managed to put food on the table. Still, as much as he liked to file it away under "it will work out somehow," her profession was figuratively slapping him upside the head as he and Matt verbally danced around this awkward crime scene. He could only imagine what was running through Matt's mind.

Doc walked over and felt the body with his hands, noting both its temperature and degree of rigor mortis. "I can't say for sure, of course, but I'd guess he's been dead maybe 8-10 hours," he announced. "I'll need to do a more thorough exam before I can say anything else."

Matt sighed and looked anxiously at his friend. "I'd rather not be seen carrying a body out of here at this hour, Doc. Kitty doesn't need that kind of gossip."

Doc agreed, and he couldn't help but take note of Matt's obvious concern for her. He held the same concern.

"Tell you what," he suggested. "Wrap him up in this sheet and I'll have Elias Foley meet you at the side door and take him to his place the back way. I'll conduct the autopsy there."

"Sounds good," he responded. "Thanks Doc."

"And for thunder's sake, let me get Kitty out of here before you do anything," Doc added.

Matt nodded as Doc headed downstairs to collect his favorite girl.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

Body of Evidence

Chapter 4

**11:00am**

Matt and Kitty sat quietly at the table they had occupied for the last two hours at Delmonico's. Matt was itching to get started on the investigation, but he wasn't going to leave her alone at a time like this. Kitty had managed to eat all of a half piece of toast and drink a little coffee as she tried to digest the news that her unknown visitor had been shot to death. There was no good way for a man to die in your bed, but murder was worse than most.

She hadn't been able to offer him any more information about what had happened, and he didn't press the matter. Matt had never known Kitty to be dishonest with him, and he didn't like to think she would start now. There were a lot of things he didn't like to think about this situation.

Matt looked at the clock and gave her a gentle pat on the arm. "I need to go talk to Doc. I'll walk you home and come back as soon as I'm done there."

"No, I'm going with you," Kitty announced to her reluctant companion. She knew why he was headed there, and perhaps no one would be more affected by those autopsy results than she would.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Matt insisted. "Let me talk to him, Kitty. I promise I'll tell you everything."

"Well, if you're going to tell me everything then I might as well hear it for myself," she said stubbornly. Matt sighed, knowing that there was no use arguing with her. Kitty often teased him about his lack of knowledge about women, but that was a lesson she had taught him well.

"Let's go," he said with a hint of resignation as he stood up from the table. She followed him out the door and they headed to the funeral home to see what Doc Adams had learned.

Elias Foley greeted them as they walked into his office. The undertaker was a good friend of Doc's and had not even questioned the unusual request earlier that morning. He figured Doc had his reasons, and that was good enough for him.

Doc emerged from a back room as he heard voices up front. He seemed surprised to see Kitty and gave Matt a look of disapproval. "Elias, can you give us a minute?" he asked.

"Certainly," Elias replied, disappearing into the back room.

"I'm sorry, she insisted on coming," Matt explained, reading Doc's thoughts. Whatever had happened, she'd had a traumatic morning and this wasn't going to be easy for her.

"I need to know what you found, Doc," Kitty said seriously. "Please, just tell me."

Doc unhooked the wire rim glasses from around his ears and rubbed his eyes. He had been staring at that body for two hours and was mentally exhausted.

"He died from a single bullet to the chest," Doc began. "Close range. It lodged right in his heart. When I cleaned the blood off, I noticed a couple of fresh scratches. There could have been a struggle."

"What kind of bullet, Doc?" Matt asked curiously.

He paused, as if he didn't want to say it. "A .41 Rimfire."

It was a small bullet, from a small gun. Kitty owned a Remington Derringer, as did many women. They were light, compact, and easy to use. She had bought it shortly after she moved to Dodge and kept it next to her bed for protection, loaded with two .41 rimfire bullets.

She looked at Matt and Doc, searching for reassurance. They didn't believe she had done this, did they?

"It wasn't my gun," she said firmly.

Doc didn't need to think about that statement for very long. The only thing he knew for sure about this bizarre situation was that Kitty Russell was no murderer. "I know it wasn't," he said like he meant it.

Kitty let a tiny, grateful smile escape her lips. Matt felt four eyes on him as both she and Doc turned to him, hoping for a reaction. But Matt Dillon had never made quick decisions, and he wasn't going to start now. He couldn't let his feelings for Kitty cloud his judgment. He let the comment pass without a response, continuing his line of questioning as though he hadn't heard it. "Did you find out who this man is?"

"Well, I found a bank receipt in his pocket with the name Harley Grayson," Doc offered. "You might check the bank and see if anyone remembers him."

"Thanks Doc, I'll do that," Matt said as he turned toward Kitty. "But I do have to check something out first. I'm sorry Kitty, but it's my job. I'm going to need to see your gun."

Matt could almost feel the chill from her icy glare. "By all means, Marshal, follow me," she said curtly as she hurried toward the door.

GSGSGSGSGSGS

The short trip to The Long Branch took even less time than usual with Kitty's rapid gait and Matt's long legs working to keep up with her. But it felt like an eternity as they made their way down the street and into the saloon without a word passing between them. Bill Pence watched from the bar in confusion as his favorite employee flew up the steps with the marshal in tow.

She found her room unlocked, remembering that Matt had been the last one up there and didn't have a key. Kitty charged through the door and headed toward the table where she kept the gun. She tried her best not to look at the bed, but she couldn't help noticing the bedspread draped over the footboard, highlighting the missing sheet. A small, light blood stain was evident on the mattress cover. She shuddered and forced herself to look away from it.

She reached the night table and yanked open the drawer, pulling out her Double Derringer. She hadn't seen it in a while, which was just fine with her. She was grateful not to have needed it.

Matt was standing near the door, wishing to be somewhere else. Anywhere else. He watched as she hurried back to him, dropping the gun in his hand like a hot potato. He popped the hinge and pivoted the barrels, revealing an empty top barrel. He had shown her how to load that gun, and they both knew he had put two bullets in it.

Kitty looked in disbelief. "I don't understand," she said with a look of confusion. "I haven't touched it, Matt. I've never fired that gun."

She hadn't, had she? Kitty was almost beginning to doubt herself. The circumstantial evidence was overwhelming. Was it possible she could have fought a man, shot him, and not remember it? NO, she chided herself. It simply did not happen.

Matt knew it didn't make sense that she would so confidently give him the gun if she knew there was a bullet missing. Yet the fact remained, there was a bullet missing—the same type of bullet Doc had found lodged in the heart of a corpse in her bed. And she not only had no alibi, she had no memory of the time frame in which the murder probably happened. He was desperate to find an explanation, but nothing had come to him. Not one thing.

Matt Dillon was not used to personal feelings getting in the way of professional duty, and he tried to be honest with himself. What would he do with this information if the woman on the other side of that gun was anyone but Kitty Russell? He knew the answer, and he didn't like it. His internal battle raged as he quietly weighed his options. His instincts had always served him well, had saved his life more than once. His gut was telling him one thing, and he decided to go with it. He started to tell Kitty but she didn't wait for him to speak.

She angrily thrust her wrists out as though she was ready to be cuffed. "Go ahead and arrest me," she said dramatically. "You clearly think I'm guilty."

"I didn't say that," he replied calmly.

"No, you didn't," she agreed, though sounding none too pleased about it. "In fact, every time I tell you I didn't do this you say _nothing_. That tells me everything I need to know."

Matt set the gun down on the dresser next to him. He took her slender wrists into his large hands and softly lowered them. "I'm not going to arrest you, Kitty," he said in a tender voice that surprised them both. Their eyes locked before glancing down at the unexpected sight of her hands encircled by his. In one brief, defining moment, that touch carried them from an unpleasant reality to a faraway place they had both longed to experience. And it felt as magical as they both imagined it would.

Matt slowly unclasped his hands and released his willing prisoner. Kitty's eyes filled with tears as the magnitude of the situation overcame her. "I'm going to get to the bottom of this," he promised. "Do you trust me?"

Kitty had good instincts too. She had trusted the quiet man with the gentle spirit since their first hello. She looked him square in the face and nodded.

"Make a list of everybody you saw at The Long Branch last night," he instructed her. "Employees, regulars, and descriptions of the people you didn't know. I won't stop until I talk to each and every one of them."

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

Body of Evidence

Chapter 5

**1pm**

No one seemed to know very much about Harley Grayson. He was indeed the man lying on the back table at Elias Foley's parlor, identified by a very hung over companion from the cattle drive. The banker had remembered the name among the many he had come across that day as the line of cowboys cashed their paychecks in preparation for a night of celebration. They were all staying at The Dodge House, still sleeping off that celebration.

Matt decided that his best clues to the previous night's events would be eyewitness accounts, and he was definitely the least popular man at The Dodge House as he banged on doors and forced each cattle driver out of bed to give an official statement. He had a lot of questions, and the answers were important. _Did Grayson have any enemies?_ _When did you last see him? Did he go upstairs with anyone? Was he particularly friendly with any of the women? Did you hear any gunshots? Did you have any dealings with Kitty Russell that night?_ The last question made him a little queasy.

Grayson was a loner, Matt was told. Not very friendly, didn't have much to say. Where was he from? Did he have a family? Who should be notified about his death? Nobody knew, or seemed to care very much. Matt would have to wire his contacts in Texas if he hoped to find out more about this mystery man.

The whiskey had flowed generously last evening, and as a result Kitty wasn't the only one with a memory problem. Matt was pessimistic as his quest began to feel like an exercise in futility. But he had to believe that somewhere in that crowded saloon, someone heard or saw something that would help him piece together what had happened. Scant as they were, he soaked up every detail.

Paul Fuller was throwing up into a bucket when Matt got to him. He was practically green, and Matt was sorry that he had to interrogate the poor kid under these circumstances. He figured young Paul had learned quite a lesson last night.

Paul's story, told as he lay on his side hugging the bucket, matched Kitty's almost word for word. He recounted how she befriended him shortly after coming downstairs and ended up talking with him for two hours, before his "friends" had dragged him to the bar and introduced him to hell. He hadn't paid attention to anyone else while he was talking to Kitty, and he didn't remember much afterwards for obvious reasons.

"Nothing happened to her, did it Marshal?" he asked with genuine concern.

"No," Matt answered, wishing that was actually true. "She's fine."

"Good," Paul replied. "She's a real fine lady. The kind any fellow would be lucky to have."

Matt nodded. "I know, Son."

"She's not too hard to look at either," he added, mustering a shy grin.

Matt chuckled. "I know that too." He thanked Paul and continued knocking on doors.

Two men remembered hearing the faint sound of a gunshot. "When? From what direction?" They didn't know. It had been so noisy in the saloon they had barely heard it, and nobody seemed to pay any attention. Could it have been upstairs? Maybe. It also could have been outside. They both said it was somewhere in the middle of the evening—late enough to be feeling the whiskey, early enough to still remember it. Not much to go on, but at least they were consistent.

The last witness to be interviewed was Caleb Little, a tall man with dark hair and a smart mouth. He rubbed his eyes as he sat on the edge of the bed, trying to clear his mind enough to answer the marshal's questions. He vaguely remembered seeing Grayson getting cozy with one of the girls, but he couldn't describe her. "You know how it is with saloon girls, Marshal. One's just like another."

Matt's first inclination was to punch him in the face and say, "Mister, if you didn't memorize every inch of Kitty Russell, you can't be much of a man." But he resisted the urge. This was the first person who had even a hint of recollection about Grayson, and he wasn't going to blow it.

"Think, Little," he ordered after dismissing his comment. "What color hair did she have? What kind of dress was she wearing?"

"I don't pay attention to dresses unless I'm figuring out how to take 'em off," he said with a slight grin, clearly amused with himself. The expression on the marshal's face indicated that he was alone in that feeling. Caleb quickly straightened up and figured he'd better just answer the questions. "Look, I'm telling you Marshal, I don't know. I saw him with her when we first got there, but then it got crowded and everybody was drinking and I didn't see him much after that. She wasn't the same girl I was trying to cozy up to later, that's all I can tell you about her."

Matt perked up. "And who was that?" he asked curiously.

"The redhead," Little replied nonchalantly. "I had bought her a drink and thought we were getting somewhere, and the next thing I know she jumps up and mumbles something about not feeling well. She disappeared like a magician's rabbit. Glad I only wasted a quarter on her."

Matt could hardly contain his excitement. This had to be the man she remembered having a drink with before everything went black. He was finally getting somewhere. "What time was this?"

"Hell, I don't know," Little barked. "Late. Real late, I'd say. Probably not too long before we got kicked out 'cause they were closing up. But that part of the night's kinda fuzzy."

"What about Grayson? Where was he at that time?"

"It's like I said, I didn't see him much after about the first part of the evening," Little replied. "I don't know where he went."

Matt didn't like this character one bit, but he believed him. "Alright," he said, satisfied that he had gotten all the information he could get for now. "Would you be willing to swear to all of this in a court of law?"

"Sure," he shrugged, unconcerned. "It's the truth."

Matt nodded and walked out of the room, pausing in the hallway to collect his thoughts. What had he learned from his first round of questioning? That there was a shot sometime in the middle of the evening that could have come from anywhere; that Grayson had at least talked to one of the other girls earlier; and something had made Kitty sick near the end of the evening. It wasn't much, but it was a start.

The next names on his list of potential witnesses were Bill Pence, Leslie Wyatt and Shauna Mathis. They had all been working that evening, surely they had seen _something_ he could use.

Kitty had asked if she could talk to them before Matt did. She worked with these people every day, lived with them, socialized with them, and this was not something she wanted them to hear for the first time when the marshal stopped by to interrogate them. Matt abided by her request, but he gave her a list of details she was not allowed to divulge. The first rule of collecting evidence was to keep your cards close to your vest, because nothing could derail an investigation like loose lips. Kitty understood and promised to follow his instructions.

He was missing something obvious, Matt was sure of it. His gut told him so, and in his experience his gut was seldom wrong. He made his way out of The Dodge House in search of more answers.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

Body of Evidence

Chapter 6

Bill Pence was the best employer Kitty had ever had. Honest and fair, he treated the girls with dignity and had not once made her feel like she was beneath him. Those were not common traits for a boss in Kitty's experience.

Bill owned the place, and unfortunately there was no way for him not to find out about her morning surprise. Matt would have to question him, and besides, he had a right to know what happened under his own roof. Bill had been good to her, better than most, and Kitty decided he should hear the story straight from the source. So as soon as Matt headed for The Dodge House, she took a deep breath and headed downstairs to tell him everything she knew.

It wasn't the first time a man had died in The Long Branch, and it most likely wouldn't be the last. But this wasn't an altercation over a crooked card game or a drunken challenge to a gunfight. A mysterious death like this couldn't be good for business. Regardless, Bill's overriding concern had been for Kitty, and much to her relief he seemed to believe her. If she didn't end up in jail over this, she still had a job.

Kitty couldn't make herself go back into that bedroom, not until someone removed the mattress. Even then she wondered if she would ever be able to sleep again without the mental image of a body lying next to her. After talking to Bill she decided to wait downstairs for Matt to return. He had promised to come back and check on her as soon as he was finished at The Dodge House, and she knew he would keep his word. She was holding her own under the circumstances, but there was no substitute for having him there with her. Though she wished it could be more, he was still the most important man in her life.

Kitty sat alone at a table as a couple of early customers stood at the bar with their drinks. She heard the batwing doors swing open and looked up expectantly, but it was only the girls. They had left by the time she and Matt returned from talking to Doc, and she noticed that they were both carrying boxes from the dress shop. Mindful of Matt's rules, she was desperate to find out if they had seen anything that might help her figure out what had happened in those missing hours.

Leslie saw the somber look on Kitty's face. "We would've invited you to go with us, but you weren't here," she explained. "Don't be mad."

"I'm not mad," Kitty returned, dreading what she had to tell them. "But I do need to talk to you about something. Can we go upstairs?" she asked.

"Sure," Leslie replied. "We'll drop our boxes off and meet you in your room."

"No, I'll come to your room," Kitty insisted.

"Okay," she shrugged, and the three women headed up the stairs. Kitty glanced at her bedroom door as they passed it, trying unsuccessfully not to picture the scene inside.

They entered Leslie's room and she tossed her boxes on the bed. "So what's this about?" she asked as Shauna quietly set her boxes on the floor.

Kitty nervously bit her lip as she looked at her two co-workers. "Marshal Dillon is coming to talk to you about something that happened here last night," she started.

"You mean he's aware that we work here?" Leslie cackled, shooting a look of amusement at Shauna.

Kitty frowned. Matt may not have gotten to know them well, but he had never been anything but nice to them. This was not a joke, and she didn't appreciate the tone. "This is very serious, and I need you to listen to me," she replied tersely.

"Sor-_ry_," Leslie said defensively. "I was just teasing. What is so important?"

"Someone died here last night," Kitty continued hesitantly. "A man. Marshal Dillon is investigating."

"Here? In The Long Branch?" Leslie asked, sounding surprised. "He must be mistaken. We were working all night and nobody died." Shauna nodded in agreement.

Kitty shook her head. "No, it's true. A man was found dead here this morning. I need you both to think really hard about last night. I know it was crowded and noisy, but did you see or hear anything unusual?"

"Why do _you_ need us to think?" Leslie wondered aloud. "Was it someone you knew?"

"Not someone I knew," Kitty said softly. "But he was found in my room."

Leslie gasped. "A man died in your room?! When? How?"

"I don't know," Kitty answered. "I just woke up this morning and…found him in my bed." She started to feel sick at her stomach all over again.

"In your _bed_?" Leslie exclaimed loudly. "What did you do to him?" She lowered her voice to almost a whisper. "Was he old? That can happen to men sometimes."

"No, it was nothing like that!" Kitty cried, now visibly upset. "I don't know how he got there. Leslie, you saw me at that table late last night. I was sitting with a tall, dark haired man in a black hat. Did you see me leave? Do you know what I did after that? I beg of you, if you can think of anything at all that might help, please tell me. I know it sounds crazy, but I don't remember."

"I'm sorry, Sweetie, but I'm afraid I have nothing to tell you," Leslie replied sympathetically. "I remember being at that table, but it was loud and I was getting on well with my customer. We were squeezed in there like a herd of cattle, so I really didn't notice when you left. And I didn't see anything unusual."

"Me either," Shauna added unhelpfully as she finally broke her silence.

Kitty felt totally deflated. She had thought that surely between the two of them, Leslie and Shauna would be able to help her piece together this mystery. "Kitty, you're not in any trouble are you?" Leslie asked bluntly.

It was a good question. If only she knew the answer.

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

Body of Evidence

Chapter 7

**2:30pm**

Matt decided to take a detour on his way to The Long Branch. He needed to talk to Bill Pence and the other girls, but he also needed something else right now—a good friend. He took the steps up to Doc's office two at a time, an easy feat with legs as long as his. He cracked open the door and saw the elder physician sitting at his desk, poring over his notes from the autopsy.

Matt wasn't exactly sure what he hoped to get from Doc. They hadn't had a chance to talk alone since those awkward few minutes in Kitty's room, and he wondered if there might be some information Doc had been hesitant to share in front of her at the undertaker's. Perhaps after having more time to think about it, Doc had come up with a theory to explain the mysterious events of the morning. After all, Doc was the smartest man he knew.

Or maybe it was something altogether different. Maybe the burden of this investigation would seem lighter if he shared it with someone who understood why it was so difficult. Someone else who loved Kitty Russell.

Loved—it was not a word Matt used lightly, or often. It wasn't a word a lawman should use at all, he told himself. But in the privacy of his own thoughts, he couldn't deny the truth. He could make all the rules he wanted, but deep down he knew he loved Kitty. He _loved_ her, and in a totally different way than Doc did.

Doc looked up from his papers as he heard the door creak. "Come on in, Matt," he called as he saw his friend peering in. He leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms. "I hope you're here to give me some good news," he declared.

"I was hoping for the same from you," Matt replied glumly.

Doc sighed. "I take it the investigation is not going well?"

Matt ran his fingers through is thick, curly mane. "I don't know, Doc. I talked to every man from that cattle drive. I got a couple of tips, but not much to go on. I'm on my way to The Long Branch now to talk to the others who were working last night. If they can't tell me something that explains this…" He didn't finish, but Doc knew where he was going.

"You believe her, don't you?" Doc pressed, clearly ready to argue if he didn't get an answer he liked.

"I do," Matt insisted, and he sounded sincere. "But Doc, I checked her gun and there's a bullet missing. It had two bullets when I showed her how to load it, and she says she's never fired it. She doesn't know what happened to the second bullet."

Doc scrubbed his thin gray moustache with his left hand. "Well I don't know either, but there has to be a good answer. And by golly, you'd better find it."

"I know," he replied. "What am I missing, Doc? Grayson didn't just magically appear in that bed with a hole in his chest. The only explanation I can think of is that someone is trying to frame Kitty. But who, and why? And how do I prove it?"

"Have you found anyone who would have had a motive to kill him?"

"Not a soul," Matt replied, shaking his head. "Nobody seemed to know him very well or care that much about him one way or another. I didn't get the impression that any of the men were lying about that."

"What about someone else? Did he get into a fight with anyone at The Long Branch? Have any enemies?"

"Not that I've found so far," Matt replied. "All I've gotten about Grayson last night is that he was talking to one of the girls earlier in the evening. Nobody remembers seeing him later."

"Which girl?" Doc asked.

"I'm not sure yet. It was one of the others, not Kitty." Matt didn't feel like explaining where he got that piece of information. Caleb Little was the kind of man Kitty found insufferable, and he winced at the thought of her having to earn money entertaining the likes of him.

"Well, I suggest you find out," Doc advised strongly. "It sounds like you're pretty short on witnesses, and whoever it was may have seen something important."

"I know, I'm headed over there now," Matt assured him. "Kitty wanted me to let her tell Bill and the girls about this herself before I talked to them. I'm on my way to get their statements."

"I sure hope Bill believes her," Doc remarked. "It'll be awful hard on her if he doesn't."

Matt nodded. "I don't know if he's been up in that bedroom yet, but I'm going to talk to him about getting a new mattress. Kitty can't be expected to sleep on that one."

"Good Lord no," Doc agreed strongly. "It must be covered in blood on that one side." Having not been present when the body was moved, he hadn't seen it for himself.

"It's not covered, there's just a few smudges," Matt replied. "But still…I saw the way she looked at it when we went in there. The faster we get it out, the better."

Doc's eyes narrowed. "Was there blood anywhere else in that room?"

Matt thought for a few seconds. "No, just the small spot on the mattress where I found him."

"Then he wasn't shot there," Doc proclaimed excitedly. "Based on where that bullet hit, he lost a tremendous amount of blood, Matt. If it wasn't soaked into the mattress or somewhere else in that room, I can tell you for certain that he was moved there later. Find the blood, and you'll find where he was shot."

That was it—the something obvious his gut told him he was missing. "Thanks Doc," he said with a smile as he rushed out the door.

He _knew_ Kitty was innocent. But now he was on the cusp of being able to prove it, and he wasn't going to stop until he did.

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

Body of Evidence

Chapter 8

Thanks to Doc's revelation, Matt's mind was swimming with possibilities. If Grayson wasn't shot in Kitty's room, then where? If he had bled as much as Doc said, it would be hard to hide.

He started at The Dodge House where Grayson had been staying with the rest of the men from the cattle drive. Random killings were known to occur, but in his experience it paid off to start with people who knew the victim. He hadn't noticed anything during his interrogations, but he hadn't been looking for blood there either. The manager allowed him to search every room, over occasional protests from the occupants. He came up empty handed.

Next he scoured Front Street, paying particular attention to the area around The Long Branch. It was the last place Grayson had been seen, and if the gunshot those men heard was the one that killed him, it had to be somewhere close by. Again, he found nothing.

Matt weighed the possibilities in his mind. Could Grayson have been carried upstairs without anyone noticing? It seemed highly unlikely unless it happened after closing, which meant someone would have had to break in after Bill locked up. The only other way into that room was through the window, which seemed even more unlikely considering its height.

Matt could only think of one plausible scenario that explained how Harley Grayson was killed and moved into Kitty's room without anyone knowing. There were many gaping holes in his scenario, but he hoped his visit to The Long Branch would help to fill them in.

Kitty's heart beat a little faster as he walked through the batwing doors. She wanted to run over and embrace him, to feel his strong, protective arms around her, have him rub her back again and tell her that everything was going to be okay. She wanted to, but she didn't. She remained seated at the table with Leslie and Shauna, who had been awkwardly keeping her company while they waited for the marshal to arrive and question them.

The bartender looked up from his customers long enough to acknowledge the familiar presence. "Good afternoon, Marshal," he chirped. "Good afternoon," Matt replied, subtly scanning the room for evidence. "Is Bill around?"

"No, he had some errands to run and said he would be back later." His questions for Bill would have to wait.

Matt made his way to the table of women, only really seeing one. Her eyes were as beautiful as ever, but they were filled with worry. He longed to comfort her, to tell her that he was getting close to the truth and wasn't going to let anything happen to her. But he simply tipped his hat and said hello.

Leslie looked up and smiled. "I understand you want to talk to us, Marshal" she said in a tone that belied the seriousness of the occasion.

"That's right," he returned. "Would you mind if we talked privately?" He never questioned witnesses together—independent versions of events were often much more enlightening than collective ones.

"Certainly," she replied, getting up from the table. Matt told the agreeable barkeep that he needed to use the office for a few minutes.

He opened the door for his witness and then closed it behind them, surveying the area to make sure that he wasn't missing anything. The room looked clean and everything seemed in place.

"I'm afraid you're wasting your time," she told him before he'd had a chance to say anything. "Kitty told us what this is about. I didn't see anything last night."

"I'd appreciate the opportunity to ask my questions before we decide this is a waste of time," he requested.

Leslie looked contrite. "I'm sorry. Please, ask your questions."

"Does the name Harley Grayson mean anything to you?" he began.

"No. Is that the man who died?"

"Yes. He was here last night with the group from the cattle drive. Medium build, dark hair, wearing a light blue shirt with gray pants and a brown hat. Does any of that sound familiar?" he asked.

Leslie looked like she was thinking hard, then shook her head. "No, it doesn't."

"I have a witness who says he spent much of the early evening with one of the girls here. It had to be either you or Miss Mathis."

"You seem awfully sure it wasn't Kitty," she remarked with a hint of amusement. "I mean, considering where he was found…"

Matt glared at her, refusing to acknowledge the comment. "Are you saying you were not with that particular man, or that you don't remember?"

"I don't think I was with him," she said, not committing to either answer.

"Then it must have been Miss Mathis," he remarked. "Hopefully we can clear this up when I talk to her."

"Go ahead," she said confidently. "But I'm telling you, we had our hands full last night with men who'd seen nothing but each other and a herd of cattle for weeks. She may not remember him either."

"I understand. If that's the case, I'll need you both to come look at the body." Leslie nodded her head, showing little reaction.

"Did you hear any gunshots last night?" Matt continued.

"Not that I recall," she answered. "That doesn't mean there weren't any. It was pretty loud in here."

"I'm sure it was," he acknowledged. "Miss Wyatt, do you own a Derringer?"

"Yes, I do," she responded candidly. "I brought it with me from St. Louis. I'm sure you know that Kitty has one too, and we talked Shauna into getting one when she came here. Certainly you understand our need for protection, Marshal. You're welcome to inspect my gun if you'd like."

"Thank you, Ma'am, I might just do that. Just a couple of more questions. Did Kitty tell you that she has no memory after a certain point last night?"

"Yes, she did," Leslie responded. "But it was a very busy night, and I…"

"Yes, I know, you've said that," Matt interrupted. "Did you see her go upstairs? Do you know what might have happened to her?"

"Kitty already asked me that," she informed him. "I remember seeing her with that man she mentioned, but I wasn't paying attention to what she was doing. I didn't see her leave."

Matt nodded, aware that he had gotten everything he was going to get out of Leslie Wyatt. "Thank you for your time," he said amiably, opening the door. She gave him a polite smile as she walked out and headed back toward the table.

"Miss Mathis?" Matt prodded, indicating that it was her turn. Shauna nervously stood up and headed straight for the office, avoiding eye contact with Matt. He noted to himself that she looked like a woman being led to the gallows.

"There's nothing to be afraid of," he said reassuringly after he closed the door to the office. "Just answer my questions truthfully, that's all you have to do." Shauna slowly looked him in the eyes and nodded.

"Do you know a man by the name of Harley Grayson?"

"No," she replied.

"Do you remember talking to a man last night, medium build with dark hair, wearing a light blue shirt with gray pants and a brown hat?"

"No," came the second answer. He was getting tired of that word.

Matt sighed. "Miss Mathis, I know it was very busy here last night, so could you at least take a little time to think about it?"

Shauna licked her bottom lip and looked like she was trying to concentrate. "I'm sorry, Marshal, I talked to a lot of men last night and I'm afraid I just can't place him."

"I have a witness who says he was talking to either you or Miss Wyatt last night, and she says it wasn't her." Matt studied her face for a reaction.

"I don't remember him," she insisted, shaking her head and appearing slightly upset.

"Do you think Miss Wyatt is lying?" he asked.

Shauna paused before she spoke. "No, I think it was a busy night and neither of us remembers him," she offered, as though carefully choosing her words.

Matt was bothered by her demeanor. "Understand I'm not accusing you of anything, Ma'am, but I need to remind you that you can get into a lot of trouble if you're not completely honest with me," he stressed. "This is a very serious matter. Do you know why I'm asking about Harley Grayson?"

Shauna frowned. "I suppose that's the name of the man Kitty told us about who died last night," she deduced.

"That's right," he confirmed. "Now, did you see or hear anything that might help me determine what happened to him?"

"No," she said once again without hesitation.

"And you're sure about that?"

"Marshal, I don't know what else to tell you" she said wearily. "I went to work last night and did my job. I don't know the man who was shot, and I saw nothing unusual."

Matt didn't miss a beat, keeping a poker face and continuing his futile line of questioning. "Can you think of a reason why Kitty wouldn't remember what happened last night?"

"No."

"Did you see her go upstairs at any time?"

"No."

_Of course not_. "Thank you," he said flatly as he opened the door and motioned for her to leave. Shauna looked at the floor as she walked past him and back to the table.

Matt glanced at the women he had just interviewed. They had given him little information, but he couldn't be more excited. He had a working theory now, at least most of one. He would wait for Bill to return before he tested it out.

Kitty managed a weak smile as Shauna took her chair. Matt's first inclination was to privately run all the evidence past her, to get her opinion. It's what he had become accustomed to doing. But she was part of this investigation, so that wasn't an option. For the first time in almost a year, he was unable to share something important with Kitty Russell. It was an empty feeling.

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

Body of Evidence

Chapter 9

**3:15**

Bill Pence had barely gotten all the way into the room before the marshal was by his side. "I need your help, Bill," he said quietly, with a sense of urgency.

Bill nodded and lowered his voice to match Matt's. "Kitty told me what happened. I'm not sure I know anything useful, but I'll do whatever I can."

"First, is there any way someone could have gotten in here last night after you locked up?" Matt inquired.

"No, I don't think so," Bill replied.

"You're sure? The lock wasn't tampered with, there was no evidence of anyone being in here?"

"I'm sure, Marshal," he insisted. "After I shooed the last of that rowdy bunch out of here, I locked up and everything seemed normal until this morning. I wouldn't have known anything unusual had happened if Kitty hadn't told me."

"Do I have your permission to search all the rooms upstairs?" Matt asked.

"You know you do," Bill answered. Matt did know, but he wasn't taking any chances. He had to do this by the book. He knew what a slick lawyer was capable of pulling, and Bill would be a solid witness to anything he found.

"Thanks," he said sincerely. Matt walked over to the table and looked down at Shauna. "Ma'am, we're going to need to go upstairs and take a look at your room."

Shauna frowned. "Why?"

"To determine whether Harley Grayson might have been killed there," he replied, noting Kitty's quizzical expression. He returned it with one that said, "Trust me on this." She did.

Shauna slowly stood up, a bit shaken. "Very well," she said. "But you won't find anything."

Matt motioned for Bill to follow him, and they headed up the steps with the girls in close pursuit. Bill opened the door to Shauna's room and Matt observed its immaculate condition. The bed was perfectly made and there wasn't a speck of dirt or an object out of place. He walked over to the bed and pulled back the all the covers, exposing a clean mattress.

"What are you doing?" Shauna asked.

Matt didn't answer her. "May I see your gun?" he requested.

Shauna walked over to her night table and opened the drawer. "Here," she said casually, placing the Derringer in his hand. Matt swiveled the barrel and saw two bullets.

"May I ask what this is about now?" Shauna demanded.

Matt looked at Kitty. "Did you follow my instructions on what not to say about this incident?" he asked.

"Yes, of course," Kitty replied.

Matt addressed Shauna. "How did you know that Harley Grayson had been shot?"

"What?" she asked, as though she didn't understand the question.

"Kitty only told you that a man died in her room, but you told me that you didn't know the man who was shot. How did you know he had been shot?"

Shauna fidgeted nervously. "I guess I just assumed…"

"I don't believe you," he proclaimed. Shauna aimed a distressed look at Leslie, who appeared none too happy.

"Let's take a look at that other room," Matt instructed Bill. He nodded, and the group followed him out the door. Kitty knew that Matt never acted on impulse, but she couldn't help but wonder if he had made a mistake this time. Leslie and Shauna were not killers.

Leslie's room was every bit as clean as Shauna's. She stood with her arms folded as Matt pulled the covers back on her bed. The mattress was spotless.

Leslie looked annoyed. "Can we end this charade, Marshal? There's obviously nothing here."

Matt did a double take around the room, then stared at the mattress. Could he have gotten this wrong? The pieces all fit—Grayson had to have been killed upstairs, there was no way his body could have been moved up there without witnesses. And if it didn't happen in Kitty's room, it happened in one of the other rooms. Shauna and Leslie were both evasive, and Shauna knew more than she should. Could that much blood have been cleaned up without a trace?

He had been so certain. What now? Matt started to pull the covers back over the mattress when he noticed something. The mattress was slightly off kilter from the frame, and a possibility suddenly occurred to him. He lifted up the corner and squatted down far enough that he could see the bottom. A large, reddish brown stain was visible on one side.

Matt lowered the mattress and faced its owner. "The mattress was turned over to hide the blood. I believe this is where Harley Grayson was killed."

Kitty couldn't quite believe what she was hearing. She and Leslie were not great friends, but they were friends. They lived together, shared personal belongings, socialized, and worked together. And if what Matt said was true, she had set Kitty up to take the blame for a murder. It was almost too much.

Kitty's eyes filled with tears as she gazed at Leslie in disbelief. "How could you?" she cried.

Leslie put her hands on her hips and spoke in a defiant tone. "I have no idea how that blood got there, Marshal."

"I doubt that," he replied.

"I guess that's how the law works in this town," she fumed. "Kitty doesn't remember how a dead body gets into her bed and you believe her. But I can't explain something and you automatically assume I'm guilty."

"You're welcome to see if the judge believes you," he suggested.

"What about my gun?" she urged. "Aren't you going to check that?"

Her eagerness on the matter told Matt that he would find it fully loaded. But it was part of the case, so he was obliged to inspect it. "Alright, let me see your gun," he agreed.

Leslie was more than happy to do so. She quickly made her way to the night table and pulled it out of the drawer. Matt took the gun and inspected the barrel, revealing the expected two bullets.

"See," she said smugly. "If I had shot anyone, wouldn't there be a bullet missing?"

Matt held the barrel up to the window where the light enabled him to see it better. "Not if you replaced it," he noted.

"You could never prove that," she said nervously.

"I think I can," he stated. "Can you see the headstamps on these bullets?" he asked, tilting the barrel toward her. "They're not the same. The headstamp tells you the manufacturer of the bullet. The bottom one was made by National Arms. The top one was made by Remington Arms, just like the ones in Kitty's gun. You fired the top bullet, then replaced it with one from Kitty's gun after you cooked up this scheme."

Leslie clasped her hands and squeezed nervously as Matt turned to the conspicuously silent Shauna Mathis, standing next to Kitty with an expression that bordered on panic.

"Ma'am, if you know anything, this would be the time to tell me," he advised. "I can't promise you won't get into trouble, but I can promise to talk to the judge and make sure your cooperation works in your favor."

Shauna pressed her hand against her lips, as though she was trying to keep words from escaping. She swallowed hard before slowly lowering it. "She said nobody would get into trouble this way," Shauna started.

"Shut up!" Leslie screamed, as Shauna flinched in surprise.

"It's _over_," Shauna told her, now more angry than afraid. "I knew this was wrong from the beginning. Kitty, I don't expect you to ever forgive me, but I want you to know how sorry I am. I never meant to hurt you."

"Never meant to hurt me?" Kitty screeched. "Do you know what would have happened if I had been convicted of this?"

"But Leslie said the marshal would protect you," Shauna blurted out, her voice cracking with emotion. "I see the way he looks at you, Kitty, and…I swear I wouldn't have helped her if I didn't believe that."

Leslie dropped to the edge of the bed and held her stomach as though she might be sick. "I don't suppose it would do any good to tell you my side of the story now," she surmised, seemingly resigned to her fate.

"I'd actually like to hear it," Matt responded, trying to ignore the implications of Shauna's statement.

"So would I," Kitty added bitterly.

It wasn't an easy story to tell, especially not in front of two men. But Leslie figured she had nothing to lose at this point. "I brought Harley Grayson up to my room last night," she began. "I didn't know him, but he seemed okay. No worse than I'm used to. But then…."

She stopped and took a deep breath, struggling to find words she could bear to say out loud. It was so personal, so intimate. "He was cruel and rough and wanted things I wasn't willing to give him," she continued. "I told him to leave, and he started yelling that he expected to get his money's worth. So I grabbed the money off the table and threw it back at him. He slapped me in the face and said he wasn't leaving until he got what he came for. Then he pinned me down and tried to make me do it. We struggled, and I managed to break free with one arm and get the gun off the table. I didn't even know where it was aimed, I just pulled the trigger. He fell back onto the bed and blood started pouring out of his chest. His eyes were open, and I knew he was dead." Leslie looked at the floor so she wouldn't have to see anyone's reaction.

The room was completely silent until Matt finally spoke. "If this is true, you were defending yourself," he stated. "Why didn't you just tell the truth about what happened?"

"Excuse me, have we met?" she asked sarcastically. Matt gave her a quizzical look, and Leslie softened her tone. "I'm sorry. It's just…Marshal, you know my reputation here. If I went into a courtroom and said that I brought a man up to my room, then shot him when he tried to force himself on me—well, I guess the only question would be who would laugh harder, the judge or the jury."

Matt couldn't argue with that logic. As much as he liked to think that the law ensured justice, he knew it didn't always work that way. The law was made and enforced by human beings, and they were flawed. They had prejudices and preconceived notions, and sometimes those were more important than the facts. It was a sad truth, but women like Leslie had learned that no matter the circumstances, they could never expect to be treated like victims.

"I panicked when I realized how this would look," she went on to explain. "Nobody would believe me. I sat on the floor for a good half hour, trying to figure out what to do. And somehow it just occurred to me—if something like this happened to Kitty, you would believe her, and you would protect her. I knew you would, and it was my only hope. So I got dressed, found Shauna, and told her what happened. I said people like her and me would be swinging from the nearest rope, but Kitty has something we don't—she has a man who loves her, and he happens to be the law in this town. That I didn't know how, but he would make sure she didn't get blamed for something she didn't do. Shauna shouldn't get into trouble, Marshal. She didn't want to do it, but I talked her into it."

Matt's eyes met Kitty's for one brief, awkward glance before quickly looking away. He was well aware of how he felt about Kitty, but he was totally unprepared to learn that others knew it as well. He tried his best to show no reaction, to look like a professional doing his job instead of a man who just found out that his secret love was the worst kept secret in Dodge.

He cleared his throat and proceeded to solve the final piece of the puzzle. "Do you know why doesn't Kitty remember what happened last night?"

Leslie winced and glanced at the vials of powder on her dresser. "I didn't know how to get him in there without waking her up. And then I remembered what happened the first time I took that medicine Doctor Adams gave me for my foot. I accidentally took more than I was supposed to, and it practically knocked me out. I didn't even remember I had taken it until I saw the empty vial the next day. I figured if it affected me that way, it might do the same to her."

Leslie looked regretfully at Kitty, not wanting to imagine what she must think of her. "I was desperate," she said pleadingly. Kitty turned away, unable to look at her.

"How did you manage to do it?" Matt asked, determined not to miss a single detail.

"When I finally went back downstairs, I brought my bag and put the powders in it. Then that man bought her a drink, and I offered to get the tray for our table. By that time most people had been drinking for hours, nobody noticed what I was doing. After closing, when I knew she had to be asleep…well, I suppose you know what happened then."

It was an almost unbelievable story, yet Kitty knew it had to be true. It explained everything, and she felt a paradox of emotions. Anger, relief, betrayal, pity…hope. It was possibly the last emotion she expected to feel under the circumstances, but she couldn't deny that Leslie's words had breathed new life into that dream she had convinced herself was unattainable. _…she has a man who loves her. _Could it be true?

Matt held his hand out for Leslie and gently helped her off the bed. "I'm afraid I will need you and Miss Mathis to come with me," he said. "I promise to see to it that you both get a fair hearing."

Leslie nodded and headed toward the door, pausing for a moment when she came to Kitty. "I know this means nothing coming from me, but I envy you. You're one of the lucky ones. And I'm sorry for what I've put you through."

Kitty couldn't manage to choke out a reply. She watched through misty eyes as Matt led the two women out of the room.

Doc Adams hurried into the saloon as the group filed down the steps, looking as though he had urgent business. "I might have something, Matt," he said excitedly, motioning him over. Matt hurried to his side and Doc spoke almost in a whisper. "Lithium carbonate—I gave some to Leslie Wyatt for her gout. In large doses, it can cause excessive drowsiness and short term memory loss. If someone gave it to Kitty, it would explain why she doesn't remember what happened last night."

Matt leaned in as though he was about to say something important. "That's old news, Doc," he whispered back, giving his friend a wink. He led the two women out of the saloon, and Kitty flashed a relieved smile at her friend.

Doc absentmindedly tugged at his ear. "Would somebody tell me what in thunder's going on here?" he inquired grumpily.

"Have a seat, Doc," Kitty suggested. "This is going to take a while."

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

Body of Evidence

Chapter 10

**Two months later**

Matt stopped in front of the batwing doors and tugged on his suit jacket, inspecting the sleeves and making sure the front buttons were properly fastened. It wasn't every day he dressed up like this—in fact, it wasn't many days at all—and he wanted to make sure he looked his best.

He glanced up at the new sign above The Long Branch, erected the previous day. _Russell and Pence, Proprietors. _He almost couldn't believe it when he learned that Kitty had become a businesswoman and bought herself half ownership in the successful saloon. Then again, he knew he shouldn't be surprised—she was smart as a whip and gutsier than most men. He was practically as excited about it as she was and had decided to treat her to dinner as a celebration. He had decided something else too, something much more important than dinner. It was a decision he had made weeks ago, and this just might be the night he worked up the courage to tell her.

Matt walked into The Long Branch just as Kitty was making her way down the stairs. She was wearing a new dress, one she had bought specially for the occasion of kicking off her new career. It wasn't as revealing as her saloon dresses, but it didn't exactly hide her assets either.

"You look beautiful," Matt remarked, quite honestly, as Kitty joined him at the bottom of the stairs.

"Thanks. You don't look so bad yourself in that courting suit," she teased, referring to the nickname she had given his outfit the first time she had seen him in it months ago. If only she knew.

Matt had rented a buggy to take them to the new restaurant that had opened up just outside of town. "We're not going to Delmonico's?" Kitty asked with genuine surprise.

"There's not much to celebrate at Delmonico's," he joked. "I think we can do better than that."

Kitty laughed. This was shaping up to be a special evening indeed.

The new restaurant did not disappoint. Over steaks cooked to perfection and a bottle of red wine, they chatted about everything from the happiness of her new business venture to the sadness of the upcoming court case they both dreaded. Shauna had pled guilty to obstruction of justice and received probation for her part in the cover up of Harley Grayson's death. Leslie's trial was starting in a week, and they would both be testifying.

Matt had learned quite a bit about Harley Grayson since that fateful day, none of it good. He had a criminal record and a history of abusing women that made Leslie's story seem even more plausible. Despite everything, Kitty was testifying on her behalf. She knew that the only way to let go of what had happened was to forgive, and she figured the best way to do that was to give Leslie Wyatt that which she had never had, what every woman deserved—someone who was on her side.

The waiter brought a dessert tray that was unlike any they had ever seen. "It all looks delicious, but I don't know if I could eat another bite," Kitty declared.

"Oh come on, this is your celebration dinner," Matt urged. "How about we share something?"

A few minutes later, the waiter appeared with a piece of apple pie and two forks. "Oh my, that's good," Kitty gushed as she closed her eyes and savored the first bite. "You might have to rent a bigger buggy to get me out of here."

Matt chuckled. He did his own taste test and agreed with Kitty's assessment. It didn't take long before the pie that neither of them was hungry for disappeared.

"You have really outdone yourself tonight," Kitty announced with a smile. "I can't imagine a better way to celebrate my new business. Thanks, Matt. It means a lot to me."

"You're welcome," he returned politely. Matt knew that this was the moment. He had been thinking of nothing else, and he'd had just enough wine to get through it. It was crazy, it was problematic, and it flew in the face of every common sense rule that he had laid out for his life. And he was going to do it anyway.

"Kitty, I need to ask you something," he said seriously.

"Ask me what?" she replied without a clue as to what was coming.

"Would you consider…I mean, do you…well, I've been thinking…" Kitty had never seen straight talking Matt Dillon trip over a sentence that badly. "What in the world is wrong with you, Marshal?" she asked lightheartedly.

Matt had to laugh at himself. He took a deep breath and decided to just spit it out. It was Kitty, after all—if he couldn't tell his best friend, who could he tell?

"Let me try this again," he said calmly. "I love you, Kitty. I've loved you since the day you stepped off that stage. I can't offer you the things other men can offer you, but I want to be with you. Not just the way I'm with you now, but the way a man wants to be with the woman who makes his life worth living. It's a big decision, and I'll understand if you say no, but I want you to say yes more than I've ever wanted anything."

Kitty's heart skipped a beat. Was this really happening? She had spent more than a year filled with desire for him, yearning, aching, dreaming. Even after that awkward moment when Leslie publically used the "L" word, nothing had happened. They had gone on as usual, as friends, companions, confidantes. Kitty had all but decided that if he felt something more for her, it was destined to remain hidden for reasons she may never understand. And now, some two months later, he tells her he has wanted her all along? What the hell had he been doing all this time? It was almost maddening, and she could only think of one thing to say.

"Yes."

Matt tried not to leap out of his chair. "It's not going to be easy, Honey," he started excitedly. Kitty couldn't help but feel a flutter in her stomach. Honey. No one had ever called her that before, and she thought it might be the most beautiful word she had ever heard.

"We'll have to be discreet," he continued. "My job is risky, and no one can know about us. It would make me vulnerable and put you in danger. We can't be seen in public as anything but friends."

"I understand," she assured him, smiling inside. They hadn't even been a couple before now, and it had been obvious to anyone with eyes how they felt about each other. But if it would ease his mind to think they were a secret, she wasn't going to burst his bubble.

"And you know my job is going to get in the way sometimes," he reminded her. "It's very unpredictable. There may be times when I have to leave at a moment's notice. I have a responsibility to this town, and that has to come first."

"Are you trying to get me to change my mind?" Kitty asked, slightly irritated. "Because I have to say, you're kind of sucking all the romance out of this."

"I'm sorry," he replied sheepishly. "I just need to know that you know what you're getting into, and that you're okay with it. I don't want to disappoint you, Kitty. You deserve the best."

"I know," she agreed. "That's why I'm with you."

Matt smiled. "It's a beautiful night. Would you like to go for a ride?"

"I'd love to," she replied.

Matt took the long way home. A full moon lit up the sky, and Kitty settled into the crook of his arm as they enjoyed a cool breeze and the sound of only their horse and buggy. It was late when they arrived back at her place, and Bill had already locked up. Kitty pulled a key from her purse as Matt walked her to the door.

"Would you like to come in for a nightcap?" she asked coyly. "I can do that now, you know. I own half that whiskey."

"I think I'm liking the benefits of this relationship already," he observed with a raised eyebrow.

She let them in and locked the door. As she headed toward the bar, she felt two strong hands grab her hips from behind. He gently spun her around, and Kitty made no attempt to resist as he drew her into him and slowly brought his mouth to hers. His kiss was deep and probing, a lingering kiss that sent currents of excitement through their bodies and took them to a place where they felt powerless to stop.

Matt reluctantly pulled away just enough to whisper in her ear. "Do you know how long I've been wanting to do that?"

"I think I have an idea," she cooed breathlessly.

Matt knew the drink could wait, but perhaps he couldn't. "Do you have any more ideas in that pretty head of yours?" he wondered hopefully.

"Take me upstairs, Cowboy, and I think you'll find that I'm just full of ideas," she purred. Kitty squealed as he scooped her up in his arms and ran toward the stairs.

The End


End file.
